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“It’s why I selected this location for housing people like you and your daughter. You can feel safe with them next door.”
I nodded, completely agreeing. It was nice knowing they wouldn’t hit on me, even if I was slightly disappointed. Especially with Gracie. No. This was good. I could just be insanely attracted to them physically and make friends. Who knew how long we would be here, so I might as well make the most of it.
“You can meet them whenever you want, but right now let’s get you two inside and settled.”
As I followed him toward the house, I couldn’t help sneaking a glance toward the two men, finding their gaze tracking my every move. A shiver ran down my spine at the intensity radiating off them. I shook my head, dismissing the sliver of heat that raced through my veins beneath their stares.
I couldn’t think that way. It would only set me up for disappointment when they didn’t return my attraction. The two hotties didn’t want me; they were just curious about their new neighbor and came out to investigate.
But if that were the case, then why did it seem like their eyes glinted with interest and heat?
* * *
The metal bedframe squeaked,the mattress shaking as I flopped from my front onto my back. Through the dark, I stared at the popcorn ceiling and pressed the heels of both palms to my temples, hoping the pressure would calm my racing thoughts. With a disappointed sigh, I dropped my hands to the bed. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand had me muttering a whispered curse.
Four in the damn morning.
Insomnia wasn’t anything new. Normally taking a sleeping pill before bed would help me not only fall asleep fast but keep me asleep until the morning. But that wasn’t an option now, not when I didn’t know my surroundings and had Gracie to think about.
She tried to run off once. That first week we were bouncing between locations. Thankfully, the marshal responsible for us at the time caught her before she could jump on a bus back to New York. She hadn’t made another escape attempt.
Yet.
I should tell her, like Max suggested. Tell her everything. Not only what I heard that night but what the FBI uncovered as they dug into Barrett’s life.
Bile burned in my throat at the thought. How did I not know? How did I not see what a disgusting man my husband had turned into?
I was so desperate for any scraps of attention he gave me that I didn’t see through his facade. Didn’t want to see all the ways he’d changed since the boy I met my freshman year at MIT.
He worked at the coffee shop I basically lived at that first year while he attended graduate school at Harvard. Back then he was all smiles, charismatic, the center of attention wherever he went, but there was a lightheartedness about him then that faded as the company grew.
With a soft growl at my wandering thoughts of the past, I kicked my feet, fighting my way out of the cardboard-stiff sheets, and twisted, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. The soft carpet tickled my bare feet as I padded down the hall. At the top of the stairs, I stared into the dark, straining to hear any sign of movement from Gracie.
Nothing. Quiet, minus the muffled howls that filtered in from outside.
My shoulders lowered, some of the tension draining from my muscles. Though I didn’t hear her moving around, I still checked the device that first marshal loaned me. It was terrible of me to place the tracking device on Gracie—well, not on her but into Mr. Whiskers, the stuffed bunny she’d never leave behind—but it helped give me peace of mind knowing she was exactly where she should be.
Close. Safe.
Far away from Barrett, who was ready to sell his daughter, knowing she’d be forced to—
My nostrils flared as I breathed through the rush of nausea. Except this time it didn’t work. My feet slapped the fake wood floor as I rushed to the downstairs bathroom. Not bothering with the light, I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet seconds before the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I ate for dinner came barreling back up. The pictures I’d found of Barrett with young girls flashed before my eyes like a disgusting movie, making me curl around the toilet again, dry heaving until my stomach muscles trembled in exhaustion.
The girls couldn’t have been much older than Gracie.
I was married to a monster.
I tipped back, the wall rattling beneath my spine, helping me stay upright. Spit and sweat coated the back of my hand when I wiped it across my lips. Knees bent, I wrapped both arms around my shins and pressed my forehead against my thighs.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed curled around myself, mind blissfully numb to my normally panicked thoughts of the future, but when I shifted to stand, my muscles were stiff and ached. After rinsing out my mouth and washing my hands, I tiptoed to the front door, where my purse sat on top of the entry table. Rummaging through the inside, I cursed when I couldn’t find the pack of cigarettes. I’d quit the moment I found out I was pregnant with Gracie but picked up the terrible habit again the same day I met with Agent Carleigh.
Knowing there was a spare pack in the SUV, I snagged the car keys from where I hid them beneath a fake plant’s terracotta pot and eased the door open, silently shutting it behind me. The bitter early morning air sliced down my throat, cutting into my lungs with my deep inhale, but I held it, relishing the way it burned.
At least if I hurt, I was feeling something other than the ever-present disgust and constant humiliation.
Taking in the dark, quiet street, I fisted the keys tight. There was no movement along the street, which probably wasn’t unusual for this small town but was for me, coming from New York City. Even if it was one in the morning and I was out to clear my head after working on a tough line of code, the streets would be packed with town cars and taxis, the sidewalks crammed with night owls.
Not here, apparently.
